


Firstborn

by AetherHearts



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-31 10:56:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15117896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherHearts/pseuds/AetherHearts
Summary: You’ve seen this movie.





	1. The Waking Weave

**Author's Note:**

> Characters and situations created by the brilliant minds at WDAS.
> 
> There’s a relationship that’s underrepresented in both official canon and fandom, possibly because it’s not passionate romance. This story is exploring the canon from their point of view, as they struggle to discover themselves, and one another.
> 
> Oh, and quite a few other things hidden in and around the kingdom will come to light, along the way. Thanks in advance for reading.

_July, 1826._

 

All night, the sun rained down in ribbons.

And she was racing in circles, through the gentle darkness, bearing one of the bright and twisting threads in both her hands. Round and round she ran, with a strand that touched the highest skies, weaving in and around other children, each bearing and pulling upon their own cords of coloured sunlight, weaving round a midsummerpole of unfathomable height.

There were the servant boys and young kitchen maids, and all the children of the palace staff, and sons and daughters of the guard; the whole village gaggle, like they were just out of school, and upland children from the backwoods, and little cohorts of kids from around the world, and from out of storybooks, all racing to complete the dance. Barreling toward her was her tiny red haired sister, giggling madly, letting the strand of blazing sunshine she bore become tangled around her head.

“Elsa! Elsa!” her sister howled, slamming straight into her.

Elsa was jarred out of her dream and back into lying in her little bed. Her sister had run into her after all, but in the waking world, and from across their shared bedroom in the middle of the night. She still felt the strands, weaving all about. With her eyes still closed, she could almost still see them. But she always felt the strands.

Her sister was shaking her like a basket, and it felt like balls of yarn were all spilling out. “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

“Anna,” she said, reluctantly. She didn't want to awaken from the dance; her eyes fluttered open and shut. _Anna’s too little to know any better._ “Go back to sleep.”

Her order was defied. Anna threw herself atop her, bobbling in the most impossible way to ignore: She returned to the amateur theatricals they had performed that afternoon. Anna was very good at them, but made up too many of her own lines, and never wanted the play to end. Facing the ceiling, she cried out like a tragic, five-year-old valkyrie, “The sky’s awake, so I’m awake!” A final bounce for emphasis was followed by Anna’s unyielding logic, “So we _have_ to play!”

 _If you stayed asleep we’d still be playing with the sunbeams._ But Anna couldn’t see the strands like Elsa could, asleep or awake, let alone hold them and use them. The northern lights were glowing in through the high window, and that must have set her off, like it usually did, only it was really late, and it was summer, and nights were short enough as it was.

If she was going to be awake, there was going to be what Papa called _protocol_. Anna was just a princess, not the Crown Princess. So Elsa bumped her to the floor, and curled back up under the covers. “Go play by yourself!”

Soon she was reapproaching the state of sleep where she couldn’t just feel, but could see how the pieces of the world held together. They were like the weave of an endless supply of intricate fabrics, and she could always choose the best and most beautiful to work with.

Then her eyelid was peeled up to reveal the monster. Anna was back, with a grin heralding her total victory. “Do you wanna build a snowman?”

 _The sky’s awake now,_ she thought, meeting her sister’s gaze and challenge with a smirk. There was no resisting the call to practice her favorite thing to do in the waking world. All the patterns and threads and streamers were leaping, and pulling her toward the dark and silent master ballroom downstairs, aching to be filled with a winter playground, from all the ice and snow she would forge together with them, easy as singing. The only real challenge was how to get Anna down there without her alerting anyone with her giggles.

Anna merrily raced around in circles, while Elsa rose out of bed and carefully put on her slippers. And as always, that caused her to remember.

“Wait. You don’t have your boots.”

Anna stopped still. She bent all the way over to look at her bare feet, then swept upright again with the most earnest look on her face. “I don’t need them! I’ll be careful!”

Elsa was eight and a half, and knew there was more to being careful than just promises. “No, you need to wear boots on your feet. Remember last time?” Every day for the past month, whenever she put on or took off her shoes, Elsa was reminded of what she had done.

 

 

 


	2. Incognito and Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little princesses are at play in the corridors of power.

_June, 1826._

 

It had been the night before Anna’s birthday, and the girls had sneaked out of their beds to commit hide and seek in grand fashion, across the entirety of the castle. It was a glorious chaos: The new servants from the uplands were still getting their bearings, and were constantly getting lost in the corridors, and on top of that they had been delivering crate after crate from the harbor all day, with no idea where any of them went. Anna thought they were all birthday presents for her, but they were mostly a vast set of china gifted to their parents from some faraway duke. But the crates themselves created a maze that could not be resisted from the ancient pull of child’s play. 

On her turn to hide, Elsa took the strategy of going to the upper floors, with fewer misplaced crates, but more darkened windowsills and their shadows to curl into. She had just settled in a spot behind a drape, when adult voices alerted her someone was across and down the hall, in the council chamber. One of them sounded like her father, but she couldn’t make out what was being said. 

She was just leaning forward, the better to listen, when the doors of the chamber suddenly swung in, and she pulled back. “—It’s not like I was left with a choice,” she heard her father say. “It was done before I even knew!”

Then out stepped Lady Ryder.

The castle always had guests: The kingdom of Arendelle lay on the entrance to the Baltic Sea, and merchants, noblemen and even royalty would stop over regularly to enjoy the hospitality of her realm and family. Lord and Lady Ryder were frequent presences. Young ladies with whom Elsa had made acquaintance were usually full of laughter and conversation, and praised her for being so very mature for her age.

Not Lady Ryder. She wouldn’t laugh, and Elsa could not remember if she had even seen her smile. Lady Ryder was always dressed in simple dark clothes and heavy shoes, her short drab hair slicked back, crowned with a straight part that made her smooth young face look uncanny. She was more severe than the drop from Odin’s Rock. 

Only now, she was furious.

She had taken three steps out from the room, and stood there, seething. Her hands were fists; her face, contorted with anger and disgust. As the lady struggled to control her breathing, Elsa heard Lord Ryder speak within.

“Oh, Your Majesty. That is not something we can overlook. Let alone countenance.”

“I . . . ” Elsa heard her father sigh. “I know. But I couldn’t put my family in greater jeopardy.” 

With that, Lady Ryder turned to storm down the corridor past Elsa’s hiding place, but froze after the first step. She cocked her head in Elsa’s direction, and it made Elsa wish she could disappear into the walls. For Lady Ryder’s face went from fury to white hot fury. 

She wheeled about and made for the opposite stairs, shoes banging like a hammer at every step. Her husband appeared at the council room doors to close them, and he watched her with a grim sorrow. 

“Then you must know that men like the Duke are never finished. You haven’t reduced your jeopardy. He’s left you surrounded by dangers, while he profits.”

She had never heard him speak or act like this, either. Lord Ryder was usually a jolly, easy-going fellow, always a quick wit with a joke, never forgetting to bring the best books and toys as presents for her sister and herself. Elsa knew she was watching something that was only for grownups. She felt like the time when she was very small, and trotted off to see what the fishermen were going to do with all their catch.

Lord Ryder spotted her as her father spoke behind him, “And . . . there was no one else I could turn to with this. If I have truly lost your trust, then—”

“Um! I wouldn’t assume anything, Your Majesty. Lady Ryder is probably just off powdering her nose—” Here he gingerly stepped out into the hall, issuing a flurry of words as he shut the doors behind him, “Please wait here a moment while I go fetch her back, thanks so much!”

Once free of the council chamber, Lord Ryder made a show of looking up and down the serenely appointed corridor and speaking aloud, as it to himself. “Now which way did she go? All these halls look alike. Can’t tell one rosemailed door from the next . . . how about this way!” He pointed and went in the direction opposite to the one his wife last chose.

“She went down the east staircase,” Elsa said, from her hiding place.

Lord Ryder leapt a foot in the air. “Whoah! Was that a ghost? —Or is that Arendelle Castle _itself_ speaking?”

Elsa didn’t feel like laughing. “You saw her go that way yourself.”

“Man, you’d think they’d warn tourists that the castle was watching you _and_ talking at the same time.”

There were stories from far away where that might have made sense, but Elsa wasn’t supposed to talk about magic, any magic, with guests. “Architecture doesn’t talk aloud.”

“Oh, nice try, castle. And by the way, it’s very rude to imitate Princess Elsa’s voice!”

“You already saw me too.” 

Finally, Lord Ryder let the façade slide away. He sighed. “Yeah. You know, I used to be better at distracting people. Convincing them to go along with whatever idea came out of my mouth.” He sat against the wall near her drapery, and glanced over to her, in defeat. “Being outsmarted by an eight-year-old does not help a diplomat’s reputation.”

She didn’t quite know what to say to that. “I didn’t mean to . . . to eavesdrop.”

He shrugged. “It’s your home, you can go pretty much anywhere you like. Still. If you _do_ eavesdrop, you’re bound to hear things you don’t understand, and . . . that can be scary.” And he waited patiently for her to reply.

“Why is Lady Ryder mad at Papa?”

“Ah well. Lady Ryder— and myself— we come to Arendelle to help your father make decisions. We don’t make them for him, he’s the king. But sometimes . . . sometimes there’s no way to make a good decision. If others have made decisions you don’t like, or could hurt you, but you can’t stop them—”

“Like the big countries.”

Lord Ryder raised his eyebrows. “Yes. Like other countries. It sounds like your dad has had some serious talks with you already, Your Highness.”

“He told me the big countries leave Arendelle alone because they disagree with each other over which of them should own it.” _And he just said our family was in danger._ She curled her hands over her heart. “So they leave Papa as king, and Arendelle keeps its head down.”

His expression held more pity than she had ever seen on a man’s face. He looked from her, to the council chamber doors, and then down the long quiet hall. Composing himself, he said to her, “And that’s what Lady Ryder was angry about. Your father is stuck with bad choices. She’s mad at another nation’s decisions.”

_But then why is she angry at me?_ Elsa was about to ask, when she was suddenly grabbed from behind.

“Found you!” cried Anna, clambering over her from the depths of the curtains. 

This was a terrible hiding place. 

“My turn!” cried Anna, racing away. “Count all the way to ten!” Of course, Anna only ever counted to ten before searching. Elsa always gave her sister to the count of sixty, because she was so little.

In but a second, Anna had vanished down the west staircase, leaving behind only her giggles, dancing in the air.

“It looks like we both have some responsibilities to return to.” Lord Ryder rose, aided Elsa to her feet, and then graciously bowed. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. We’ll help your father work things out.” He smiled gently, and reentered the council chamber.

Elsa approached the newly shut doors, and eavesdropped with newly curious intent. “It seems the walls have some very specific diminutive ears, Your Majesty,” she overheard Lord Ryder say.

“Oh dear heavens. I trusted they had been in bed.” Her father sounded so disappointed.

“Perhaps we should get out of their range, and continue our conversation out on the veranda— or whatever you call the balcony-thingy here.”

Elsa felt ashamed for sneaking out of bed, and making her father worry. _And he already has so many big problems._ And as had been happening for as long as she could remember, whenever she became very upset, the bright threads of the weave of the world no longer held her up her joys and expectations. 

They fell. She could feel them descend, pressed down by her thoughts and abandoned by her heart, till they poured out like torn nets cast upon the ground, pooling about her feet. And ice would spread out across floor, as if it were the surface of a winter pond. 

It was happening now. This was part of her ‘magic’ but it didn’t feel special. It felt like she had spilled a big glass of juice, only somehow worse. Delicate strands of frost spread in spirals out from her slippers, completely out of her control.

She couldn’t just leave it there in the upstairs corridor. Some of the older servants knew her secret gift, but there were so many new laborers about the castle now. Elsa had been warned by her mother that they were strange and superstitious. Or they could slip. And then there were the Ryders.

_We both have some responsibilities. That’s what Lord Ryder had said._ She looked at the ice. It shouldn’t be able to just run off like that. _If Lord Ryder can help fix things, so should I._

“Come on, ice. We have to do better. Our family depends on us.” And slowly, almost surely, Elsa gathered up the invisible strands again, like the reigns of a fussy pony. The ice took on a soft glow, a gentle throw of blue light emanating from the thin crystals, until she could wind them away from the carpet and into the air. She felt the strands obey her hands’ pull, and in a moment the frost rose and returned to vapor. As the floor cleared, the pattern of invisible strands sprang back into place, and Elsa smiled. 

That done, there was making things right with Papa’s rules about bedtime. She determined to find Anna, and call an end to the game.

After sneaking around the castle for twenty minutes, Elsa was more than ready to surrender to Anna, but she was nowhere to be found on the upper levels. Elsa decided to take a quick look at the storage areas below the kitchen, as they had been open all day to receive crates, and Anna kept trying to get down there earlier in the day, out of sheer boisterous curiosity. _Everything is still new for Anna,_ she thought. Then it occurred to her that she had almost never been down there herself.

The heavy doors to the stairs below were still open, and now unguarded.

The castle was situated on the waters of ——— Fjord, and had been built centuries before by her ancestors. Her father had pointed out the newer parts built by his grandfather, such as the courtyard fountains, and most of the paintings in the gallery were from his father’s time. But the cellars were the oldest part of all, for the foundations were built on an outlying rock barely above the level of the sea itself. As Elsa carefully stepped down the stone stairs, the damp air and musty smell of the ages enveloped her.

Near the bottom, the stairs opened onto a wider space with black doorways leading in every direction. There was no light down here, but that didn’t convince her that Anna had not come this way to hide. _Anna sees no problem dancing into trouble._ Elsa wasn’t going to go any farther without light, and with the coal bin so close, no lanterns were kept there, or lucifers to ignite them.

There were plenty of the new crates though. Most of them seemed to have found their way down here, waiting for time and mold to overcome them. The white lime oozing from the walls and the pools of moisture across the floor gave her an idea. Whenever she moved the strands that made frost appear in their wake, they also released some light. That had happened upstairs when she dropped the strands out of shame, and she wondered if she could make it happen intentionally.

She tried freezing a small puddle of water by tapping it with her foot, and pushing the unseen weave into it.

It worked. The water swirled with a mellow blue glow that persisted after it solidified. Elsa felt the threads rebound up to her, leaving a shimmering patch of ice on the floor. She stood over it, admiring how well it illuminated her from below. She glanced about the better-lit chamber, habitually checking to see if anyone witnessed her trying her powers. No one was around. She went deeper into the room.

A puddle near a dark doorway got a tap from her foot, a little stronger this time. To her surprise and joy, she felt the weave spring into the floor and bounce up again in more than one place, freezing more of the floor. _It’s like a trampoline, only upside-down!_ And, of course, very stiff and cold, but these conditions were positive to Elsa. Being able to control the ice and get an understanding of how it worked was a thrilling insight.

_It still looks like it spreads straight out from my foot, but that’s an illusion._ The glowing floor now revealed the location of the wine cellar, and she remembered how much trouble she got in once for freezing Mama’s wine. So she set off along another direction, with more rooms and a deeper maze of the new crates. Before long, she was getting the hang of setting off ripples of ice just where she wanted them. It was like skipping stones without the stones, and as easy as pooling the threads to form a snowball in her hand.

All her attention was on how the threads spread the ice as they vibrated silently through the floor. Greater amounts of water tended to attract them, but there was another pattern coursing under them all that drew them on. That drew Elsa on. She sped around one corner as her threads bounced into a mop and bucket, tipping them over, and freezing them in place halfway to the floor.

Elsa did not see them as she ran. They knocked her flying.

She slid to a stop, face down among a mass of crates, the ice having spread to every corner of the ancient room. 

The landing had hurt a bit, but not as much as it might have: The ice and the threads that made it were not her enemy, and almost seemed to cushion her fall. This at least was a familiar feeling of comfort that they gave her, which retracted swiftly as she reached forward to grasp something to pull herself up with, and her hands fell upon the points of a pair of tightly-laced black leather shoes.

_Lady Ryder’s shoes!!_ And of course the legs and skirts and such, attached. Elsa looked up.

She saw her own tiny face looking back at her, pale and shimmering, and twisted with shock and fear.

Lit from below by her ice, and from behind by a greenish light, it took a second for Elsa to realize what she was staring at. It was the surface of a porcelain plate. Its reverse was being examined under the sickly rays of an old lantern.

The plate slowly moved aside, and like a ghastly orb in the sky emerging from eclipse, there was revealed the eerily flawless face of Lady Ryder. 

She did not act surprised or alarmed or confused by the blatant magic all over the floor. Without taking her narrowing eyes off Elsa, she tossed the plate back onto a pile of them in the open crate beside her, and unceremoniously dropped the lantern atop them all, with a crash that sounded like many were shattered thereby.

Elsa backed away. Lady Ryder was not simply, obviously angry— she was deeply so. Elsa could feel it. She could feel it because all her strands were shrinking inside herself, or pulling at her to run, because only now could she sense that Lady Ryder was _also_ centered by cords of power, and hers were a tower of twisting, burning, barely contained rage.

Gasping, Elsa got to her feet and bolted.

She raced off into a dark corridor, piled with crates, but instead of finding another way out, she was met with a dead end. Slipping behind the last box, she looked behind her to see Lady Ryder slowly turn toward her, fists clenching. The light seemed to disappear into the sable blackness of her clothes, as the lady began to take a step.

“Don’t be mad, Lady Ryder! Elsa’s only playing!”

Out from an impossibly small space among a stack of crates beside Lady Ryder, crawled Anna. She was upside-down on all fours, sliding in her nightclothes and bare limbs on the lambent ice.

Lady Ryder was plainly taken by surprise, as Anna circled her in the same odd position. “This is how we play! Elsa makes snow and we play in it. Like making angels!” Here she waved her little arms to demonstrate how it was done, although there was no powder to angelify. “This is ice,” she explained.

Then Anna pushed on about the room, without using her arms, but treating her head and its red mop of hair like the focal point of a wheelbarrow. Lady Ryder only stared at this behavior, but Elsa could sense that the anger in her was subsiding. Even evaporating.

“Elsa can’t help it, don’t be mad. It’s like . . . not getting to the potty in time, only instead, there’s ice everywhere.”

Lady Ryder seemed very amused by this, but Elsa, hidden though she was, covered her face with both hands in embarrassment. _Anna! You did not need to say that!_

Anna stopped her upside-down wanderings, and motioned with one hand for Lady Ryder to come closer. Smiling softly, the lady obliged, and descended to her knees beside her. “So it’s a secret, her snow and her ice and you can’t tell anyone,” whispered Anna. “Promise you won’t be mad at Elsa, and promise you won’t tell anyone _ever._ ”

Placing one hand over her heart, Lady Ryder closed her eyes, and made to speak. But Anna interrupted her.

“My feet are stuck to the floor.”

And in short order, there was a new rule in the castle. Anna had to wear boots when playing in the magic snow— and only under supervision.

 


	3. Permissions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whose boots?

_July, 1826._

 

Lord and Lady Ryder had departed weeks ago, taking Elsa’s secrets with them, but the rule still stood, and Anna’s boots were in their parents’ bedroom, behind locked doors.

“No, Anna, we can’t.” She turned back toward her bed, her mind filled with the memory of Anna being carried upstairs by Gerda, while Mama allowed Lady Ryder to watch over her alone down in the cellars, all night, till every last magic puddle was yanked out of the floor and dispelled. _Doesn’t Anna even remember missing her birthday?_ She had been kept in bed all that day while Elsa was sequestered in her parents’ room.

The restless little princess would not be stayed. She grabbed Elsa’s hands, and jumped up and down. “No-o-o-o! We have to! Snowman!”

“No excuses.” Elsa did her best to imitate her father, whenever he spoke firmly. “Without your boots, you can’t play in the snow.” Anna was supposed to be supervised, too, but Elsa felt she was willing to handle that part. _And tonight is a perfect night to build a snowman._ The threads were pulling at her as hard as her sister was.

Anna’s face began to contort, the preparation for a grand bawl.

“Oh, Anna.” Elsa almost felt like crying too.

Then Anna’s little visage snapped back to joy, with a gasp. “Boots! I know where there are boots!” She headed straight for their bedroom door, and leapt at the handle.

Elsa’s hands grasped toward her heart, as if to keep it from leaping into her throat. “Anna! Your boots are locked in Mama and Papa’s room! Don’t go there!” Their parents were still entertaining some members of the town council and their wives in a distant part of the castle, but that only meant they could come upstairs at any time.

A couple more leaps, and Anna had conquered the door handle, and out she went into the hall. “I’m not! Down here!” She took off in the opposite direction from the royal bedroom.

Elsa stood confused for two seconds, then went in pursuit. Anna was well down the hall, and was leaping at the handle of the broom closet. “They’re in here! In here!”

“Sh!” Elsa came running up. “What are you doing?”

Anna got the high narrow door open. “She hid them in here. I saw it.” And presently she was diving noisily behind the dustbins and cleaning tools that filled the small space. “She was talking to a mouse in the wall.”

“Shhh!” Elsa expected servants or guards to come running up in the dark at any moment.

“Sorry!” said Anna, then knocked over a long-handled candlesnuffer into every metal object the room contained. After the last noisome bit of din died down, she added, “Sh!”

Elsa was on the verge of tearing out her long pale braid in anxiety. “What are you doing!?”

“Look!”

The room had no window, and what little light came into it only revealed that Anna was halfway into a hole in the paneling. “Be more careful, Anna!”

Anna emerged and trotted out with a pair of reindeer skin boots, made in the upland fashion, one hand inside of each. They certainly looked small enough to fit her.

Elsa was amazed. Her threads twirled for joy; the obstacle to play was set aside. “How did you know those were there?”

“I saw her hide them,” said Anna, dropping the boots onto the floor, and jamming in her feet. “When we played hide and seek, I saw her.”

That was the month before, which had ended in her magically mopping the cellars. Elsa looked behind her and saw the stand with the vase Anna had chosen as her first hiding place. The line of sight to the hole in the closet was geometrically perfect. _Anna has a splendid memory, after all._

The curve-toed boots were a little big on her, but not enough to matter. “Come on, come on!” Anna grabbed Elsa and pulled her down the corridor.

“We have to close the doors first,” whispered Elsa. “Get the closet.” Elsa raced back to close their bedroom door, and they met again near the stairs.

As Anna laughed down the staircase with her in tow, Elsa glanced nervously behind her. _Who did she see hide those boots?_

But by the time they reached the ground floor, Elsa was giggling as uncontrollably as her sister. They bounded over to the grand ballroom, closed themselves in, and ran to the center of the hall to stand in the aurora glow from the high windows.

“Do the magic! Do the magic!” cried Anna.

It was so like her dream. Ribbons reached down from the heavens, and into her hands, and through her entire being, and Anna was standing before her, bursting with expectations in the skyshine, and she felt ten feet tall.

A couple pulls with her fingers, and the threads began to spin. Anna leaned close while Elsa bent over her work. As they touched, the invisible ribbons created a tight knot of force, and tiny snowflakes began to condense about it, and glow. “O!” sighed Anna at the growing ball, floating between Elsa’s hands. Only Elsa could feel the knot, and how it was growing stronger, trying to untangle— but she had a plan for that.

“Ready?” she asked, and Anna nodded eagerly. And so she released the coiling knot to spring straight up toward the high peaked rafters, where it burst at last, sending a glorious little shower of snowflakes, all about the ballroom.

“This is amazing!” cried Anna, dancing under the light of the magic flurry.

Elsa watched Anna’s little booted feet bounce up and down off the parquet floor, and decided it was time to try something of what she had learned in the cellars the month before. “Watch this,” she boasted, and struck the floor with her right foot, bouncing the web of strands into the resonant wood below. This allowed the ice to surface evenly, but it rose with just enough of a ripple of force to gently nudge Anna, and send her gliding away.

_Perfection!_ thought Elsa. She watched as her sister giggled and sailed along. _Now the easy part. Spinning enough snow to build that snowman._


	4. Attend to the Commencement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...for when we get to the end we shall know more than we do now..."

_July, 1826._

 

It can start with one, but since it can’t continue without another, sometimes it begins with two. There is already a spin to them, and soon the beginning is inevitable, but to say when the moment passes where a mere gathering of crystals at last becomes a snowball...? That is a question worthy of puzzling the philosophers of old.

He knew he was just a small round lump being rolled across the ground. And he knew, and never forgot, that he began with two.

In fact, he even began with two snowballs rolling up simultaneously. Which is kind of amazing, being born in two places at the same time. Though why it was amazing wasn’t entirely clear to him, and wouldn’t be for quite awhile. He hadn’t even met anyone else yet to compare, but the sensation of being stacked on top of himself was so new and different that surely that counted for amazing.

And suddenly, he had a shock of realization, his very first. _Someone is doing the stacking._ And, honestly, that _had_ to be amazing.

He knew there had to be a way to tell the stackers how wonderful what they were doing was, and how rolling was a pretty special idea too, and where did they get their ideas? But he only had snow, and of course, the other thing, thinking. Maybe they could see his thinking? Which could make sense, if he knew what seeing was, or more to the point: What are the _stackers_ thinking? Because all these ideas bouncing around his snow wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for them.

All of sudden he had a third snowball, larger than the other two, rushed onto the top of his stack out of nowhere. That was dizzying— he had grown to twice his size! And now this was his new size, so very cautiously and carefully . . . he let the new ball . . . _think._

He was waiting for awhile.

A-a-a-and, _think!_

His excited anticipation met with nothing. The big ball on top was just weighing down his thinking balls, like a heavy inert hat. Though why a hat would be a thing he would even imagine, he couldn’t begin to imagine, he just knew hats were heavy things that were worn sometimes, and they could really be a burden.

He checked to make sure he was really attached to this third snowball. He felt the line connecting his three parts clearly enough. The original two were solid, round, and rather organized. The new one, though, was narrow on its bottom end, and jutted out in a couple places at its upper end.

He wasn’t entirely sure what it was meant to do.

But the stackers were fussing over it like it was everything, so he sat and impatiently waited to see what would happen. Suddenly, one of the stackers sped away, but the other stayed, and he marveled that he could sense the distance between them and him, and yet they seemed indirectly attached in a more direct way.

 _I wonder if they started as two._ But it didn’t really matter, as they were almost as much a single being as he was, even though he was simply two thinking snowballs and a weird hat.

The stacker that remained with him was throwing all kinds of vibrations at him, like she had at the other stacker. He thought the word for it was _sound,_ but still couldn’t tell what it was for, or how to do it himself.

Maybe when the other stacker got back, they would show him how to make sound, too.

 


	5. The Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...of nowhere in particular...

_July, 1826._

 

The princesses had completed the main body of their snowman, including a large ridiculous head, when Elsa realized that important details were missing. “Oh!” she said, pausing play. “He needs arms, and maybe some clothes.”

“You can make them out of snow,” declared Anna.

“A proper snowman is attired with sticks and scarves and a tool of his trade,” explained Elsa, basing her expertise on many pictures she had seen from abroad. She looked in the direction of the kitchen, which wasn’t very far away. _If no one sees me, I can find some sticks and a shovel there._

“What’s an attired mean?”

“It means how he’s dressed. Wait here, I know where to get them.” She slid effortlessly toward the hall to the kitchen.

As she reached the doorway, she heard her sister behind her addressing the snowman. “Hello, I’m Anna. What’s your name?” Elsa glanced back, and saw Anna carefully pacing around their creation in her strange boots. “I guess you don’t have a name yet. It can’t be Papa’s name, because he’s the king. And it can’t be Mama’s name, because you’re not a mommy!”

Elsa smirked at Anna’s reasoning. _But he does need a name,_ she thought, stepping carefully onto the unfrozen floor of the hallway. _And any snowman allowed in the presence of princesses would likely be a person of quality himself. But a silly one._ Elsa had been introduced to many such people, and began thinking of royal names that she had always found funny.

She made her way to the end of the hallway, lit only by a pair of dim tallow candles, and peered under the heavy kitchen door. It was very late at night, and so the kitchen beyond was dark. But Elsa knew her parents had been entertaining, and probably still were, so a servant might yet be sent here to fetch something for the guests, though they wouldn’t use this door. Still, she’d have to be quiet and quick. She pulled open the door and looked inside.

The candlelight revealed the little upland girl, her arms full of various items from around the kitchen; in the aurora-edged darkness, she was tiptoeing—which was very noticeable as her feet were bare beneath her palace servant uniform. There was also a mouse on the floor next to her, bearing a lump of coal, which it promptly dropped upon seeing Elsa, and ran up the girl’s skirt with a frightened squeak.

The girls froze in place, staring at one another, silent gasps on their lips.

“Um . . .” began Elsa. Then she recovered herself, and quietly continued, “Oh! I wasn’t aware anyone was still on duty at this hour.”

The upland girl looked from side to side, then back at the princess.

“Coal!” exulted Elsa in an excited half-whisper, and approached so quickly it made the upland girl flinch, and her eyes widen further. Elsa gingerly plucked up the coal the mouse had dropped. “This is excellent! Though I’ll need more.” The heavy doors to the cellar where lay the coal bin were bolted shut behind the upland girl.

Her bare hand was stained. “It’s dirty. Hand me your towel, please.”

The upland girl held a towel that was wrapped around most of the things she was carrying. Still looking shocked, she handed the entire bundle over.

Elsa glanced into the towel as she cleaned her hand and was delighted at the kindling sticks and coal lumps it contained. “These are just the things I was looking for!” There were a few other items that she thought she could use, and so fitting the mouse’s coal into the bundle, Elsa took possession of the lot.

Then the princess noticed a bulge in the upland girl’s apron. “What have you got there! Is it what I think it is?” And with that, Elsa reached in, pulled out and held aloft a big bright juicy carrot.

Elsa felt such rapturous joy, she didn’t register the anguished shock on the other girl’s face. “Perfect! This is everything!” And taking the whole pile in her arms, she ran back to the door. “Anna will love this!”

Then she halted, realizing she should say something to the girl. Turning, she added, “Oh. If anyone asks if I was down here, just say you didn’t see me. Okay?”

The little upland girl’s eyebrows slowly descended, and pressed downward. Frowning, she still nodded.

Satisfied, Elsa let the door close on the kitchen, leaving it in darkness once more.

“You’ll need a name,” said Elsa to the things she was carrying, as she returned to the task at hand.


	6. Sticks and Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Never’ is too great a name to speak.

_July, 1826._

 

The one stacker had been throwing sound at him for awhile, and he still couldn’t quite understand what it was for, though much of it impressed him as excitement, so there was that. _Maybe it’s to show me I’m not alone,_ he thought.

Wait. What does alone even mean? He pondered this as he felt the stacker dance noisily about him. Does it mean, starting with one and never finding two?

What if one went away?

That didn’t make any sense. Two are always connected, they’re always together, even if they’re far apart. Just as he was before he was stacked—

But what if one never came back to the other?

The other stacker had been gone for some time now, more than sixty seconds. A new feeling started up within him, and he couldn’t even guess what to call it. But he did not like this feeling. Not at all.

Then he felt the other stacker come running back, and he felt a wave of relief. He realized he hadn’t really lost track of either of them, that the one had been just a little farther away. He couldn’t do what they did— the stacking and the running— so knowing where they were was very, very important.

Plus, he really liked them. Their location was plainly meant to be his priority. _That has to be what that bad feeling is for._

Existence was starting to get a little complicated.

In any case, they were back at building him, and the returning stacker had brought entirely new parts. They weren’t even snow! The noisy stacker had poked two holes into the top of his snow-hat, but the returning stacker wasn’t so keen about that, so she placed a couple rocks into them. And as she placed three more rocks across his stacked parts, he became aware of another person in the room, and that nervous feeling started to return.

This one wasn’t joining in building him, but hung back. The newcomer was connected to him too, now, somehow, and he could feel how she was swept up in the awe of the room filled with snow, like he was—until the noisy one ran up to him and jammed something under his hat’s two rocks. As the noisy one bounced back onto a nearby seat, he felt the newcomer’s shock, and it wasn’t a nice or a fun shock. He felt the sticks stand up on the top of his hat, as the returning stacker placed them there. _The newcomer is hiding,_ he began to realize, _because she’s filled with . . . filled with . . . ._

Two sticks were jammed into either side of his center ball. Pressing close, Elsa waved the sticks and said for him, “Hi! I’m Olaf, and I like warm hugs!” And launching herself from the throne, Anna seized his head in both arms, and declared, “ _I love you, Olaf!_ ”

And so his hat became his head, and he awoke in the perfect love of the hug between his creators, and he knew who he was and what he was for, and the names of so many things and people and places, and he could feel the warmth, and smell the ice and snow around him, and hear every word like it played on crystal and violin strings, and he could even see.

Sort of. There were those black rocks stuck in front of his eyes, but that was probably just an oversight. He had so much to ask and to say, but Elsa and Anna—the stackers’ names were obvious to him now—decided to formally introduce themselves all over again.

“Good evening, Olaf. I am Princess Elsa. And this is my younger sister, Princess Anna. Welcome to our Winter Court!”

“Winter court in the middle of _Summer!_ ” cried Anna, as she suddenly laughed and danced round and round him.

The Winter in the court was obvious, but Anna made this Summer thing sound like the hot ticket around here. He found himself full of questions, but Elsa’s elegant formality reminded him that those should wait until after everyone had been presented.

 _And who’s that freaked-out little mouseling over there?_ he tried to politely ask, about the third girl who was hiding in the snow. But he could not speak. For a moment, he thought the one giant upper tooth he had been fashioned was acting as a latch on his mouth. But as he presently discovered, he could not move at all.

 _Probably covered by a future update,_ he mused. These two seemed pretty reliable.

“Come on, come on, Olaf! Let’s go skating!” cried Anna. And soon enough, he was being sailed across the icy floor to the giggles of his builders, though he still wasn’t able to move by himself. Elsa gently pushed him by leaning against him, and using her power of creation to make a snowy breeze spin out from her hands. And Anna gently pulled him along, because she loved him so much, and she could not leave him. His builders paid no attention to the other in their midst, creeping along the edges of the room, shadowing their play.

But for Olaf, that play was sublime joy.


End file.
